


Melrose Space

by Archant



Category: Space: Above and Beyond
Genre: April Showers Challenge, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-30
Updated: 2011-04-29
Packaged: 2017-10-18 19:43:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/192548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archant/pseuds/Archant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-episode tags for Space Above and Beyond.  Pretty much PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Melrose Space

**Author's Note:**

> A small collection of episode tags for Space Above and Beyond. I think they were published in a zine, but can't remember where or when. The title gives away the level of plot depth - i.e. none.

Melrose Space  
by ArchAnt

He wouldn't even sit beside him in a bar. Cooper Hawkes brooded over this snub, nursing his beer and scowling at anyone who looked to close. What was it going to hurt? Nobody would've thought anything of the only two tanks on base sitting together. It wasn't like he was going to screw McQueen there on the table.

Musing over the probable reactions from his squadron if he did start screwing a fellow tank in public - West would shrug and say he expected no less, Vansen would throw a fit that one of her heroes was being less than perfect - Hawkes missed seeing who threw the first punch. By the time he put down his drink, the whole room was involved, either actively or encouraging the participants. Hawkes glanced over at McQueen, almost tempted to join in the fight, but if McQueen wouldn't help his squad, then neither would Hawkes.

He put his beer down and turned to watch. Vansen was holding her own - two brawny Angels were kept at a distance by her quick punches, and another lay on the floor at her feet. West was being systematically clobbered by his opponent - the boy was all attitude and no aptitude. No one guarded their backs. Hawkes flinched involuntarily - Damphousse had walked right in to that one.

The FTN special announcement broke up the fight; the Secretary General's declaration of war stopped it mid-punch. With the Angry Angels returning to base, and West and Vansen doing God-knows-what behind the bar, there was no reason to stick around. He left quietly, only then realising that he had not spoken a single word the whole evening - even the beer had been placed before him automatically as he sat down.

He didn't see McQueen again until after his training mission to Mars. God, what a disaster. From the first verbal fight with West and his do-what-I-say attitude, to the alien suicide it had been a bad experience. Except for Pags. One day he would add up all the things he done in his life, and maybe then he could pay Pags back.

"What *would* you die for?"

You, McQueen. I'd die for you. But he could never say that out loud. Not to someone who ignored him in public, but worshipped his body in private. Not to someone who wouldn't cross the road to say hello during the day, but never let his out of his arms at night.

It wasn't so much shame, Hawkes knew. Fucking a fellow pilot was fine, male or female. But fucking a tank...

He knew McQueen hadn't slept with anyone for years - few tanks "volunteered" for the Marine Corp. And even the most pro-in-vitro rights activists still quaked at the thought of sex with a tank.

In-vitro's couldn't breed. It was supposed to ensure the superiority of the human race. But they still had feelings, needs, no matter how much others would deny them. And sex was a very basic need.

So they turned to each other. Within days of Cooper's arrival, McQueen had let him know he was welcome in his bed. Not his life, just his bed. Since all Hawkes' had wanted was a steady fuck, it hadn't taken him long to find his way there. Only Cooper hadn't planned on falling in love with the single- minded the-marine-corp-is-my-life bastard. After that nothing was the same. He went through his days on automatic, sneering at the world. But his nights were spent in gut-wrenching ecstasy.

He hadn't known exactly what to expect when he accepted the offer. McQueen had been very up front about what he expected - sex. Nothing else was asked for, and nothing else was offered. He explained that no other tank had been available for him for almost 2 years and that .... Hawkes had cut him off, asking if he wanted to fuck or talk.

"Fuck," was McQueen's reply. "My room, 10pm."

Cooper hesitated outside McQueen's door. The bastard hadn't spoken to him since the invitation this morning. He gritted his teeth and knocked.

"Come."

That's what I'm here for, Hawkes thought, entering the Lieutenant's room.

McQueen stood up as he entered, staring at him without a word.

Unaccountably nervous, Hawkes took refuge in attack. "You said I could come."

"Yes."

When nothing further was said, Hawkes stripped. McQueen echoed his movements, turning aside for a moment to retrieve something from the desk drawer, and they moved towards the bed. Hawkes didn't have time to do more than glance at him before he was face down on the bed, legs spread, McQueen between his thighs. He tensed, prepared for an immediate invasion, but instead felt a fingertip lightly tracing up his spine, sliding over each vertebrae, making it's way unerringly to his neck and the physical reminder of his in vitro origins.

It gave them the nickname "nipple necks" - the omphalos, the raised remnant of oxygen/nutrition umbilical and was quite sensitive to the touch, more so that the human navel, which was its equivalent. But unlike "belly buttons" it protruded outwards. And its sensitivity, unknown to humans, was increased ten-fold during sex.

One digit stroked over the raised lump, while the other hand rimmed Hawkes's anus, spreading the lubricant McQueen must have had ready to hand. Hawkes growled and pushed back against the teasing fingers, which worked their way in deeper, loosening the tight ring of muscle, then McQueen replaced them with the head of his cock. He leant forward, hot mouth covering Hawkes's inverted navel, then thrust forward, simultaneously sucking on the tumescent omphalos.

Hawkes caught fire instantly, raising his knees to allow better access, pushing back onto the heated shaft.

One hand crept around to savagely pinch his nipples and teeth lightly grazed over his omphalos, drawing a strangled cry from Hawkes before he bucked and came, closely followed by McQueen.

Hawkes lay beneath the pilot, shuddering in reaction. He'd never turned on so fast before. "What did you do? How..?" he asked, voice muffled by the bedding.

"You don't know?" Surprise that any tank would not know about their reaction to stimulation of their neck coloured the question.

"No."

"Your omphalos becomes very sensitive during sex," McQueen explained, then fell silent, recalling how he himself had discovered this fact. He shook off the memories, returning to the here and now with a jolt, feeling 2 years worth of accumulation frustration sweeping over him. His cock stirred, still buried in Cooper, and he gave a tentative thrust before settling down to a steady rhythm.

"What about your schoal," he queried, referring to the tanks decanted at the same time as Hawkes. "Didn't an older tank tell them about it?"

Hawkes grunted. "Don't know. I took off after two weeks of training. You're the oldest tank I've ever met. All the others were my age. And none of them ever touched me there."

McQueen wasn't listening, instead all he heard was the blood rushing through his ears as he pounded into the body below him. Now that he'd come once, he had more control, and he intended to use it. Pausing only to put a pillow under Hawkes's hips, TC laid his hands on Hawkes's shoulders, thumbs slowly revolving in counterpoint around the omphalos, while holding Hawkes's body still for his thrusts, penetrating further and further into the trainees arse. He fell into a mindless pattern, becoming aware of Hawkes again only when the tank was screaming, "Now goddamit McQueen. Finish it now!"

McQueen lifted Hawkes' legs up, moving his knees under Hawkes' groin, to kneel. His fingers dug into the tank's cheeks, spreading the globes further apart, before withdrawing until all but the tip of his cock was removed.

"Fuck yourself", he ordered.

Cooper attempted to obey, but was unable to gain any purchase. "Can't," he moaned.

McQueen renewed his attack on the sensitive nipples, teasing, keeping just the head inside Hawkes' arse. The trainee twisted, attempting to gain leverage, but only managed to twist himself further up the bed, almost losing McQueen in the process.

McQueen slid forward to keep contact, then lifted Hawkes's shoulders up, holding all his weight on his thighs, before shuffling forward to lean Cooper against the wall, still embedded in his body.

"Now," he commanded.

Hawkes folded his arms against the wall, resting his head on the makeshift pillow, then started to lower his arse onto McQueen's shaft. Slowly he pushed his way down until he could go no further. Fresh beads of sweat broke out on his back, and he felt a tongue lick up his spine, then lathe gently over his omphalos. It lightly teased and tickled, in dark contrast to the painful pull on his tits and the tight fullness in his arse. Hawkes lost control, unable to concentrate on any one sensation, and he twisted back and forth futilely. "Goddamit, McQueen. Fuck me!" he roared.

McQueen's first thrust plastered the tank against the wall. Two strokes later Hawkes came, biting his lip to stop from screaming. McQueen was still pistoning into him, straining to reach orgasm, forcing Hawkes harder against the wall until he too peaked with one last drive, filling Hawkes with liquid heat before sliding out of Cooper onto the bed.

Cooper collapsed backwards with a moan, striving to regain his breath, closing his eyes. A few minutes later he opened them to see McQueen, a half smile on his face, trail his fingertips over Hawkes' chest.

Hawkes swallowed, bringing TC's attention back to his face. "You want I should leave now?" he asked, prepared to be thrown out now that McQueen was done.

McQueen shook his head. "No. Go to sleep."

Just on the edge of awareness, a soft touch fell on his lips, a brief caress stirred his senses, and at first Cooper dismissed it as a dream; but the pattern was set. Each night they came together, fighting in their urgency to mate. And each night Hawkes pretended to fall asleep afterwards, waiting for the kiss, the one touch that was never initiated until McQueen thought Hawkes to be unaware.

In the morning Cooper woke up alone.

McQueen was flying into action with the Angels as Hawkes stood silently watching over Pag's grave. All the words he'd said wouldn't make McQueen stay. And all the words he didn't say would have made him go. In the end McQueen just walked out, leaving Cooper to wonder if he'd ever see him again. The recall sounded as light blossomed in the night sky, and inside he knew McQueen was gone.

But he wasn't dead. Tanks were notoriously hard to kill - that was what they'd been bred for. A slight limp and facial scars were the only visible signs of his injuries, but inside something had changed. That night after the battle had been a revelation - their passion had always been violent, rough, but this time McQueen had been uncontrollable, taking Hawkes over and over, until he lay exhausted beside him, only to start again, slowly this time, with gentle hands and warm mouth until Cooper was begging for release. And then he's said it. Never had Hawkes expected to hear those words.

Remembering that quiet voice whispering in his ear, he turned to the man beside him. "Say it again."

McQueen complied. "I love you."

Hawkes shivered. It shouldn't be that easy.

"And if you ever again pull a stunt like you did today, I'll kill you myself," he continued.

Hawkes smiled. That was more like it.


	2. Chapter 2

It didn't change anything.

During the day McQueen was the same hard nosed bastard he'd always been. He drilled the Wild Cards with his customary efficiency, riding over their protests, training them the way he had been trained.

When West went AWOL after the lone Vesta colonist was rescued, McQueen knew that Vansen and Hawkes would follow. All he could do was give them cover, feeling that little catch in the throat that said the one I love is at risk. He fought it down to a manageable level, but it never quite disappeared.

Vansen's report that Hawkes was down sent ice through his veins, and he had immediately ordered an APC to Vesta. Only the fact that they had picked up two more survivors saved the three pilots from a court martial - that and the strings McQueen had pulled. All of his efforts had been for naught though, until a stranger had stepped in and declared the incident a non-event. It didn't happen was the core's response. McQueen could live with that, his squad alive, his lover safe.

After lights out, McQueen had left the officer's lounge to find Cooper waiting for him outside his cabin.

"Someone's going to notice."

Hawkes was unconcerned. "They know."

The Col said nothing, just ushered Hawkes into his room and shut the door behind them. Away from human sight, his shoulders slumped as he let go the public facade, dropped the marine image, and became himself.

Hawkes was the only one he let see this side of him, the stress of being the only tank of command rank onboard, always judged and measured, never allowed to make mistakes.

Hands reached for his shoulders, soothing the knotted muscles, carefully steering clear of the sensitive lump below his hairline.

McQueen had discovered this sensitivity only two weeks after he'd been decanted, when one of the supervisors at the mines had chosen him for the night. Not to fuck, but to watch.

Unable to cope, barely comprehending what was expected of him, with the supervisor becoming angrier, an older tank had taken him aside, speaking quietly, calming him, caressing, surreptitiously stroking the raised omphalos, eventually tormenting him into a haze of lust and need, during which he had performed more than adequately.

The next day the other tank had sought him out, explaining that the sensitivity was not to become known to humans but only to fellow in vitros - the humans had enough control over them, another hold was not necessary.

Hawkes had taken advantage of McQueen's lapse into memory, stripping the Col of his jacket, giving freer access to the broad expanse of chest and solid back. He reached around, easing the t-shirt out of tight trousers, fingertips playing lightly over the bare skin, the washboard flat stomach.

The first time Hawkes had seen a naked human, his eyes had been drawn to the navel - he wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but it wasn't that. A mere dimple. It looked - wrong, somehow, unfinished.

McQueen's stomach was muscles on top of muscles, a legacy of both his genetic make up and a rigid physical regimen. Cooper stroked gently along the line of fine blond hair that arrowed downwards, venturing further until a stirring under his hand signalled the Col's return to the present.

In vitros may be infertile, but they sure weren't impotent, McQueen thought, pressing back against his lover's engorged phallus. Just the opposite. Given the sexual stamina of the average tank, and the hormone levels that went with it, humanity would be up to its ears in children if they were able to breed.

He turned within the circle of Hawkes' arms, beginning his trade mark gesture - up the back to Hawkes' omphalos. Once there he stopped, concerned to see a slight look of distaste on his face.

"What is it?" he queried.

Hawkes look away, then drew McQueen into a hug, hooking his chin over McQueen's shoulder before answering. "When the AI's caught us down on Bunuel, one of them touched me there. It was ..., " he trailed off.

McQueen shuddered, remembering impersonal medical check ups and probing fingers. "The AI's know." he replied eventually, a small spasm running over his body. "They use that knowledge. Its a standard torture technique on tanks.."

"It felt ... wrong," Hawkes whispered.

"I know." Deliberately, McQueen brushed over Cooper's omphalos. It swelled beneath his fingers, and he felt another swelling at his groin. He licked his fingers and repeated the gesture, circling over the fleshy nub, changing tempo and direction, varying the pressure until Hawkes was stifling cries, his cock threatening to rip through his uniform.

Slowly McQueen walked towards the bed, then sat on the edge, guiding Hawkes to his knees in front of him. With one hand he removed his trousers, continuing the teasing movements, then pressed Hawkes' face to his groin.

A hot mouth opened, a cool tongue licked experimentally over his swollen glans and he was taken in, buried in fire, until the urge to thrust was overpowering. Taking a deep breath, he threaded his other hand through Hawkes' wild mane, pulling him away, then letting him sink back again, repeating the move several times, before returning to tease Hawkes' omphalos, allowing Cooper to set the rhythm. It was fast and furious, the pilot obviously very near the edge. When McQueen lightened the pressure Hawkes moaned around his mouthful, then pushed back onto the fingers, bending his head further to display his neck. Answering the silent demand, the Col scraped one fingernail over the lump, rewarded immediately by a choked cry of completion. Cooper slumped forward, cock still in his mouth.

Withdrawing, McQueen pulled him onto the bed, quickly pulling down dampened trousers and pants, before entering the pliant body, lubricated only by saliva. Hawkes flinched then relaxed, too accustomed to McQueen to be more than slightly sore from the rough entry. McQueen plundered the willing depths, searching for and finding the internal button that had Hawkes erect again, fucking hard in an effort to replace unpleasant memories with happier ones.

McQueen gasped as Hawkes tightened around him, and they finished together, lying joined for several minutes before McQueen gathered the strength to leave the warm refuge.

"Think of that next time someone touches you there," he instructed, rolling. over to lie beside the sated tank.

Hawkes looked sideways at him. "You ... think it'll happen again?"

"We're at war, Hawkes. You're a marine. You tell me."

Cooper shivered, moving closer to the warm body beside him. McQueen threw his arm across his lover's chest, and drew him in. "Don't think about it. Use the fear, it'll make you faster, quicker. Use it, don't let *it* use you."

He brushed back the hair that fell over Cooper's eyes. He'd never have a child of his own, and god knows what he felt for Hawkes wasn't in the least paternal, but somehow when Hawkes came to him, expecting him to have all the answers, he felt as he imagined a father would.

The Core had been his father, tough but fair, disciplined but not harsh. The least he could do was be the same for Hawkes and the other Wild Cards. Even if sometimes he had the urge to bash West and Hawkes' heads together, and tell them to grow up.

"Tye?"

Thinking Hawke to be asleep, the voice startled him, the rarely used nick name even more so.

"I love you."

Looking into deep brown eyes, McQueen was pleased to see the uneasiness gone, only love, tiredness and a faint lingering trace of lust showed. "I love you, too. But sometimes I wish you would grow up."

"Huh? What'd I do?"

McQueen leaned forward, closing the small gap between them. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips before he pressed them gently against his lover's. "Go to sleep," he ordered.


	3. After "Mutiny"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Episode tag for Mutiny

Hawkes didn't go to McQueen that night, nor the next. The third night, McQueen came looking for him. He was in the VR booth, practice shooting.

"That supposed to be me?" he asked.

Hawkes froze, then holstered the weapon, taking off the visor. He ran a hand through his hair, sweeping it back into its accustomed place.

"No."

"But you are angry with me," the Colonel stated.

"No ... Yes ... I don't know."

"Decisive as ever."

"Don't laugh at me!"

"I'm ... sorry."

"You're sorry." Hawkes nodded his head, stepping out of the VR enclosure. "You're always sorry."

"What'd you want me to do, Hawkes? Get us all killed? You didn't even know her!"

All the frustrations of the past few days caught up with Cooper and he swung wildly at McQueen. An amateur would have seen it coming, but Tye held his ground, accepting it, rocking back on his heels with the force of the punch. He lifted his hands to his lip, fingers coming away red.

Hawkes licked the blood of his knuckles, staring at his lover.

McQueen just stood there.

"You told Keats you trusted me to do the right thing." He moved closer to Hawkes. "I did the right thing."

"I know. But ...." Hawkes' voice broke on a sob.

McQueen drew him into a hug.

"But she was my sister," he whispered.

***

Hawkes entered the Wild Card's barracks bare moments ahead of the general alert. Vansen noticed his appearance, the others were too busy scrambling into flight suits and running for the fighter bay. She nudged Damphousse, running a finger over her knuckles, drawing Vanessa's attention to that same feature on Cooper - only his knuckles were bruised and split.

The black Lieutenant arched an eyebrow and grinned. "Wonder who he hit?"

Shane frowned. Hawkes may be a pain in the butt sometimes, but he was her friend. She made a mental note to talk to him soon.

McQueen's debriefing was short and to the point. After taking in all the pertinent information, and giving her report, Shane had time to sit back and speculate on the Colonel, and his newly split lip. From the discrete mutterings beside her, she knew Vanessa and Paul had noticed. The Colonel dismissed the squad, supposedly oblivious to the sudden rush of gossip behind him.

"What happened to him?" West asked, gesturing with his chin at the exiting Colonel.

Hawkes stared out the door, running his fingers over bruised knuckles, smiling to himself, then walked out.

"You're so dense," Vanessa said. "Hawkes wasn't in our room last night."

"So? He's hardly there often enough to need the bed."

"But he was there the previous two nights."

"Yes," West agreed.

"Think about it," Wang chimed in.

"I don't see ... oh."

"Yeah, oh," Wang smirked.

**

Vansen hurried out the door after Cooper, knowing he always went to one of two places after a battle - the VR shooting stand, or the cargo bay. She turned towards the bay.

Hawkes was sitting in his usual place, the top level of the grid rails that held the loading grips, staring off at the stars. She climbed up to sit beside him, shivering. The cargo bays were unheated, and the large window, with vacuum inches away through the plexglass, stole what little heat remained.

"You want to talk about it?"

"No." Cooper didn't turn to face her.

"You're not up on charges, so I'd guess it was personal," she said, hugging herself against the cold. A jacket settled around her shoulders, and she thanked him with a smile.

"You'll catch cold."

He snorted derisively. "Tanks don't catch colds."

They sat is companionable silence for a few minutes, but she couldn't resist digging.

"Didn't see you in the barracks last night."

"Wasn't there."

"So you and the Colonel are ... talking again?"

"Yeah."

Again, there was silence.

"Vansen." the quiet voice behind her made her jump. Hawkes reached out a steadying hand, squeezing lightly before releasing her. She turned to face McQueen.

"You missed mail call," he said. "It's on your bunk."

Shane stood up, handed Hawkes his jacket and carefully stepped around McQueen to reach the ladder. Just as she passed him she slipped. Her heart leapt into her throat as she fought to regain her balance. A hand gripped the back of her shirt, pulling her back onto the rail.

"Thank you, sir." she said.

"You're welcome." From the look he threw over her shoulder, she realised he wasn't just talking about the near fall.

"He's my friend," she stated, meeting the brown eyes. Shane'd been aware of their liaison from the beginning - it wasn't hard to see that Cooper's non-presence in their barracks always coincided with the Lieutenant's presence on base. She knew it had been a convenience for them at first, but then something had changed. And two days ago, things had changed again.

"He's my friend," she repeated.

"Yes," McQueen continued to meet her gaze, until she nodded, and started down the ladder.

McQueen remained standing, watching Vansen retreat, her boot heels echoing in the empty bay, before he walked over to sit by Cooper, looking out at space.

Cooper leant against him, still silently staring into the vast infinity displayed before them.

"I never get mail," he said.

"Neither do I."

"I have no friends to send letters. No family. Kate would have been family. She would have been there for me."

"I'm here for you," McQueen stated.

"It's not the same." Hawkes shrugged, trying to put this feelings into words. "You're there for all of us. I wanted someone just for me."

"She would have had her own life, met different people. You're a marine, and she was going to the mines." McQueen was careful not to speak of the probable life she would have had. The manifest had put her as "service" personnel, rather than mining. He'd visited her tank before they left the ship. Looking at the woman to be who shared so much of his lover's looks, he'd wept at the waste.

"You'd have been as much apart as you are now."

"But I'd know she was out there."

"If you found family once, you can find it again."

"Yeah. 'Dumb but good looking'."

"What?"

"That's what the medic said about my genotype. Said that's why that gene pool was used often."

"I won't deny you look good. But you're not dumb. You received the same education in the tank as all your schoal. You've only been out six years. Give yourself time to grow up."

Hawkess glanced sideways as his lover. "That's not what you said yesterday when you pulled me off West."

"Marines don't fight marines," the Colonel scolded automatically.

Hawkes only grinned, then leaned on McQueen's shoulder as he levered himself up. He held out his hand, pleased that McQueen accepted it immediately.

McQueen's hand was warm against skin grown cold on heat-leaching metal. Without releasing his hold, McQueen lowered his hand, forcing Hawkes to step closer. The same warm hands cupped his face, stroking over smooth skin, following the sweep of eyebrow. Tye moved closer still, brushing his lips against Hawkes, before stepping back.

"I'm here for you, Cooper."

The moment was broken by voices below, and they stepped further apart.

"Wanna jump down?" Hawkes suggested, mischief clear on his face. "They don't know we're up here."

"No one's supposed to be up here," McQueen reminded.

"Oh, c'mon Tye! It's only 20 feet. It's not like we'd break a leg!" he said.

McQueen sighed. "No."

They descended the ladder, walking quickly to the door. "21 00 hours?" McQueen queried.

"Yes."

**


	4. Ray Butts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post episode tag for 1.05 - "Ray Butts"

"Maybe you pulled every string, but I pulled the rope. I'm on a mission classified 'compartmentalised'. And I'm taking them with me."

McQueen barely heard the words over the refrain running through his head. This ain't gonna happen, he thought, unaware he'd spoken aloud.

The Lieutenant Colonel continued his speech, each word another stab at McQueen. His parting shot "they're mine now" cut even deeper.

He left, going in person this time to Commodore Ross, trying once more to have another squad take this mission. The Commodore was sympathetic but could no nothing.

"My hands are tied, Colonel. They're Butts' for this mission. I'm sorry, Tye. I know how you feel." Ross sat back, meeting McQueen's eyes.

McQueen leant down against the Commodore's desk. "Do you, sir? I've trained them to trust their commanding officers. I wouldn't trust that man with a ... pet fish. A dead one." He stood up, turning away from Ross.

"Colonel, your orders are clear - they are not your squad for the duration of this mission. You are off duty for the next three days. Do you understand? Goddamit, Tye, look at me! Do you understand?"

Without turning, the Colonel answered in the affirmative. He strode out of the room, anger clearly written on his face. Crewmen stepped out of his way as he returned to his room. Showering quickly, he climbing into civilian clothing, something he rarely did onboard, even when he was off duty. The clothing felt subtly wrong, emphasising his unease with the whole situation.

Walking into the common room, he stopped to listen to the Wild Card's bitching about their latest training session.

"I'm in a squad where I'd rather shoot the CO then the enemy," Hawkes said as McQueen entered.

"Knock it off," McQueen ordered, striding up to their table.

"You know what I'm saying, sir," Hawkes continued. "I mean, I never felt like shooting you."

"Stop it, Hawkes. You're making me all misty." All the Wild Cards knew he and Hawkes were lovers, but he was never anything other than their commanding officer in public.

Wang spoke up, taking the attention off Hawkes. "Sir, we'd all lay down our lives for you because we know you'd put it down for us. But Butts, .." he trailed off.

West broke in. "He wouldn't be there."

"Sir, is there something you can do?" Vanessa asked.

"We don't want him, we want you," Cooper said in a low voice, looking at the table top.

That voice, so familiar, reminiscent of hot passion and quiet comfort brought a lump to his throat. He took refuge in sarcasm, biting out a reply to cover his sudden surge of emotion. "This isn't a dating service. We're in the middle of a war." Putting aside his own feelings, he answered their questions, reminding them that they were to follow orders, then left.

He stopped at the door, turning once more to the five faces watching after him. "But I'd check my six. And I'd check each other's sixes," he warned, catching each pilot's eyes, lingering on his lover.

McQueen half expected to sleep alone that night, but Hawkes dropped by after lights out, slipping into his room with practised ease, not bothering to turn the light on in the cabin he knew as well as his own.

Tye shuffled back to make space as Cooper hurriedly undressed, a brief shiver as cold flesh pressed against him quickly suppressed. Wrapped in solid warmth, Hawkes nestled into his lover's embrace, deliberately provocative, enticing response with fleeting touches.

There was an air of quiet desperation about Hawkes' loving, more so than the night before any of his other missions, a silent mutual awareness that survival was even less assured than usual. McQueen answered this desperation with easy strength, overriding the frantic haste with which Cooper clawed at him, until he calmed beneath his touch, then turned him over to lay seige upon the quiescent willing body, reclaiming an ownership that was never in doubt, until the only thing that filled Hawkes was McQueen - his body, his love, his essence permeating every pore.

***

McQueen watched his squad preparing for the upcoming mission without him. As each pilot entered the APC, they looked for him, meeting his eyes, reading the message of support sent, the trust that they would follow their orders - and that McQueen would do whatever he could to ensure their safe return.

***

He was waiting for them in the launch bay, knowing that only 5 of the 6 were returning, praying to a god he'd never believed in that all his squad were safe. His relief as all five gathered in front of him was quickly hidden under a brusque greeting, only his special arrangements for their meal giving any clue as to his feelings as he sent them off to change.


End file.
